J. J. O'Molloy turned the files crackingly over, murmuring, seeking:

--Continued on page six, column four.

--Yes, EVENING TELEGRAPH here, Mr Bloom phoned from the inner office. Is
the boss ...? Yes, TELEGRAPH ... To where? Aha! Which auction rooms? ...
Aha! I see ... Right. I'll catch him.


A COLLISION ENSUES


The bell whirred again as he rang off. He came in quickly and
bumped against Lenehan who was struggling up with the second tissue.

--PARDON, MONSIEUR, Lenehan said, clutching him for an instant and making
a grimace.

--My fault, Mr Bloom said, suffering his grip. Are you hurt? I'm in a
hurry.

--Knee, Lenehan said.

He made a comic face and whined, rubbing his knee:

--The accumulation of the ANNO DOMINI.

--Sorry, Mr Bloom said.